“We'll have to give her a name.” I crept to my wardrobe; trying not to startle her.
“If we name her, she'll probably stay,” Arach warned me.
“What's wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I suppose.” He glanced back at the female nurial who was still staring at him warily. “As long as she wants to stay.”
“You can stay as long as you like,” I said to the nurial. “And we'll come up with a name for you.”
Dexter happily licked his daughter's face.
“We'd best get to the boys before they burst in here and startle her,” Arach said. “Come along, A Thaisce; slowly.”
We eased toward the door; the new nurial tensing as we moved. But Dex nudged her cheek with his, and she laid her head back down. We left the door open a crack so they could get out, and then went to tell the twins about our new baby.
After talking the boys down from their excitement and curtailing their desire to go running into our bedroom to meet the new girl, we took them downstairs for breakfast in the castle's dining hall.
Castle Aithinne's dining hall also served as its throne room when necessary. But most of the time, rectangular tables were set lengthwise in a line along each of the side walls, and one final table was set before the dragon thrones on the dais. The décor was understated for such an important room; the tables were devoid of linens to show off their polished wood tops, and the tall, thin windows on the right side of the hall were also unadorned. The only fabric in the room was the red velvet upholstery on the chairs and the clothing worn by the Fire Court.
Braziers on iron posts were set out to line the central aisle during court, but for meals, they were set back along the walls. They were large but simple in design. The most ostentatious things in the room were the thrones; both solid gold and carved with dragons. The throne on the left was Arach's and slightly larger; with a peaked back that held a ruby the size of my fist. My throne was to the right; crowned by a yellow diamond. Because of the austere nature of the rest of the room, the thrones immediately caught my attention when I walked in; gold and sparkling jewels against glossy black. I suppose that was on purpose. Dragons were some of the most arrogant fey, and I wouldn't put it past them to have designed the room to force everyone to notice them first.
Even with them empty, I looked first to the thrones, and then to the people sitting beside them. Isleen, Castle Aithinne's steward and Duchess, was sitting at the High Table with her boyfriend, the High Prince Lugh. It had taken a lot of work to get Isleen to sit at that particular table. Despite her rank, she didn't think she deserved to be there.
Isleen had been made a duchess by the High King Cian because of her service to the House of Fire (raising Arach after his parents died) and also because High Prince Lugh was in love with her. Lugh could have been with anyone, and the High King would have been happy as long as Lugh was, but it made things a lot easier if Lugh's lover was royalty. I believe the High King would have gladly bestowed the title on Isleen simply based on Arach's testimony of her loyalty and service, but the added benefit to his son wasn't lost on him. It sped up the process from what would have taken weeks to something accomplished in minutes.
Whatever the reason was for her receiving it, Isleen deserved the prestige, but she didn't see it that way. What finally did the trick—as far as dining at the high table went—was Lugh's numerous visits. As the High Prince of Faerie, Lugh had to be served at our high table, and since he was there to visit Isleen, he wanted her sitting beside him. She could hardly refuse the High Prince. And they looked damned good together; his golden hair complementing her raven locks.
Theirs was a complicated relationship that had weathered a few storms before it had calmed into something beautiful. Isleen is a leanan-sidhe—a faerie blood-drinker—and she was also a proud woman who respected Fey traditions. But as much as she respected the traditions, she didn't take kindly to someone using them against her; as Lugh had done when he announced his love for her in front of nearly all of Faerie. It had put her on that proverbial spot and nearly destroyed their romance. But Lugh had wised up and made amends, and now the couple was happily breakfasting at our high table. Which meant that they had happily spent the night together first.
On the way to our seats, we passed another happy couple; this one engaged to be married. My wildcat, Roarke, had finally proposed to and been accepted by, Anna, the mother of his son. Anna and Roarke sat with their son, Hunter, between them; placing food on his plate in between bouts of kissing. Hunter looked as if he'd had enough of the funny business going on above his head, and was mightily relieved when he spotted Rian and Brevyn.
“Rian! Brev!” Hunter jumped up onto the table and climbed over the breakfast dishes to escape his parents and reach the safety of his friends.
“Hunter!” Anna called after him.
“I gotta go, Mom,” Hunter said over his shoulder; very much like a human child.
“This is your doing,” Anna accused Roarke as she waved at their son. “You've allowed your fascination with human ways to influence our son.”
“He's fine.” Roarke huffed. “He's finished his breakfast; let him go.”
“Cats shouldn't go climbing over tables,” Anna declared. “It's not seemly.”
“Yeah; good luck with that,” I said to her.
